


Words of Comfort to be Scratched on a Mirror

by Trufreak89



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon compliant up to 1x07, Choking, Established Relationship, F/F, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trufreak89/pseuds/Trufreak89
Summary: “You are beautiful.” Eve is still staring vacantly into the mirror - weighing up her life choices - when Villanelle appears behind her.





	Words of Comfort to be Scratched on a Mirror

_Words of Comfort to be Scratched on a Mirror_

_Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;_   
_Sappho's restriction was only the sky;_   
_Ninon was ever the chatter of France;_   
_But oh, what a good girl am I!_

_-_ **Dorothy Parker**   
  
  


There’s an antique vanity in Villanelle’s bedroom and it hardly took Eve by surprise when she first spotted it. After all, she has those garish gold taps in the bathroom and a fridge full of champagne; so a huge, pretentious, dressing table isn't to be unexpected.

Eve stands in front of the dresser now. Makeup and jewelry are strewn all over the tabletop. There’s the imprint of a kiss in stark red lipstick in the top left corner. Eve steps closer and runs her fingers over the mark, which has long since dried to the glass.

She catches herself in the mirror. Eve feels like she has aged five years in just as many months, but her reflection doesn’t show it. Her skin is soft and glowing. This probably has something to do with the six-hundred-pound moisturizer she’s been using - the only one Villanelle has in her apartment.  
  
The glass jar is tiny. Eve thinks the price is ludicrous - her first car cost less to buy - but she can’t argue with how good her skin looks. The expensive face cream is the least ridiculous thing about her life of late.

Three weeks.

That’s how long she’s been in Paris. It seems longer and shorter at the same time. It’s surprising how quickly she’s fallen into a routine here. How domestic her life here is.

London holds little for her now. With no job, no husband and few friends, there’s not much to go back to. Elena stills calls to check in. She thinks Eve is on vacation, taking time for herself after all the crazy shit with Villanelle and The Twelve. Eve doesn’t correct her.

“You are beautiful.” Eve is still staring vacantly into the mirror - weighing up her life choices - when Villanelle appears behind her. Slender, yet powerful, arms wrap around her waist. Villanelle presses herself against Eve’s back.

Eve shivers as the other woman’s breasts push up against her. The shirt she is wearing is paper thin, and she isn’t wearing a bra. She leans back, indulging in Villanelle’s touch.

It took a while, but Eve doesn’t jump a foot in the air whenever the assassin touches her anymore. Her heart still pounds like the drum at an AC/DC concert, but that has nothing to do with Villanelle’s profession.

The younger woman dips her head towards Eve’s neck and takes in the scent lingering on her skin. “You’re wearing it.” Her eyes light up. Her hands stray from Eve’s hips.

“Hm.” Eve hums, as if it’s no big deal she’s wearing Villanelle’s favorite perfume. As if she doesn’t know exactly what effect it has on her.

“Tu m’as manqué, baby,” Villanelle mutters, pressing feather light kisses to her throat.  
“I’ve missed you too,” Eve replies. She arches her neck back, giving Villanelle the access she craves.

“En Francais.” Villanelle bites down with enough force to leave a mark. Eve whimpers, her mind going blank as she searches for the words in French. She’s growing more fluent, living in the heart of Paris, but words escape her as one of Villanelle’s hands slips under the waistband of her sweatpants.

“Um… ah… I… manqué too?” She tries, which earns her another light nip at her collar. Villanelle lets it go after all she has other things to occupy her attention.

“You’re not wearing underwear. Naughty girl.” She flashes Eve a wicked grin in the mirror as she runs a single digit through her slick folds. Eve should feel embarrassed because of how wet she is already, but she’s long past feeling self-conscious when Villanelle touches her like this.

Her thumb brushes over Eve’s clit, making her let out a hiss. She closes her eyes. “No.” Villanelle snaps, her voice harsh in Eve’s ear as her nails dig into her thigh. At times she can be gentle and loving, worshiping Eve’s body like a sacred temple when they have sex, but now is not one of those times.

Anticipation coils in Eve’s stomach. Her sex life had been relatively vanilla until she started sleeping with a psychopathic killer for hire. Villanelle has a way of showing Eve exactly what is she wants and then making it happen. It’s no different in the bedroom.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see.” The Russian’s accent grows thicker when she’s turned on. Her vowels become softer and the consonants more pronounced. Eve does as she’s told and opens her eyes again.

She’s met by the sight of a wild woman staring back at her in the mirror. Her hair is a tussled mess from where Villanelle has grabbed it. Her eyes are wide and practically black, and her pupils are blown because of sheer arousal.

Villanelle snakes a knee through Eve’s legs, urging her to spread them wider. At the same time she grabs a fistful of Eve’s hair and pushes her forward. Eve plants her hands on the table to support herself as she’s bent over the vanity.

“Such a good girl.” Villanelle coos in her ear. Her soothing words are in sharp contrast to the nails she rakes up the inside of Eve’s inner thigh. Eve hisses, but she keeps her eyes open, staring straight ahead at the other woman’s reflection.

“My darling girl…" She rubs her cheek against Eve’s like a cat. She moves her hand from Eve’s thigh and back to her center, sliding probing fingers over her folds. “All mine.” She slips two fingers inside of her lover with little warning.

Eve inhales sharply with the sudden intrusion but her eyes stay open. Behind her, Villanelle looks proud of herself. She curls her fingers, brushing them against a spot that Nico couldn’t find with a map.

“Oksana…” Eve lets out a moan, her hips keening for some much-needed friction against her aching clit. She doesn’t keep her waiting long. Villanelle pulls her fingers most of the way out before slamming into her.

She does it again before settling into a bruising rhythm that has Eve panting and begging for more. “Please… Oksana… oh god, please…” Her eyes close and her hair is yanked painfully, forcing them back open.

“I want you to watch.” Villanelle growls in her ear. “Watch me make you come, baby. Let me show you how beautiful you look when you do.” She keeps her promise and fucks Eve hard and fast, taking her right to the edge. She waits until Eve is begging her - crying out her name like a prayer or a plea - before her thumb finds her clit.

Eve coming undone at her fingertips is the most wonderful sight in the world. Villanelle wants her to see what she does. She releases Eve’s hair, knowing she won’t move while she has two fingers pounding relentlessly into her, and moves her hand to Eve’s throat.

Her fingers grip just tight enough to make Eve gasp for breath. She should be ashamed of the things she lets her do to her, but Eve can honestly say nobody else has ever made her come as hard as Villanelle does.

Her head is spinning, and she’s seeing stars when she climaxes. She clamps down around Villanelle’s fingers, screams out her name and rides out the high as the other woman doesn’t let up until Eve is absolutely spent. She finally closes her eyes as Villanelle pulls out of her.

Eve’s legs buckle.

Strong arms wrap around her waist as Villanelle holds her up. She turns Eve around and scoops her up. Eve drapes her arms around her neck as she carries her bridal style towards the bed. Villanelle places her down with the utmost of care.

Eve curls upon her side while the other woman lies down behind her. She wraps her arms around her again, spooning her. “God, I’m tired.” Eve sighs. Her eyes are closed and her limbs feel heavy.  
Every inch of her aches, but it's a pleasant ache.

“You did so good, baby.” Villanelle peppers her neck with soft kisses as she murmurs words of comfort to her. She knows how to strip Eve raw, to take her apart piece by piece; but she also knows just how to put her back together again. “So, so good… And I think we found something new you like.”


End file.
